horrid narrative of the victims whom he
sacrificed by poison or the sword, by the sea or the flames, would be
less expressive of his cruelty than the appellation of the halcyon days,
which was applied to a rare and bloodless week of repose: the tyrant
strove to transfer, on the laws and the judges, some portion of his
guilt; but the mask was fallen, and his subjects could no longer mistake
the true author of their calamities. The noblest of the Greeks,
more especially those who, by descent or alliance, might dispute the
Comnenian inheritance, escaped from the monster's den: Nice and Prusa,
Sicily or Cyprus, were their places of refuge; and as their flight was
already criminal, they aggravated their offence by an open revolt, and
the Imperial title. Yet Andronicus resisted the daggers and swords of
his most formidable enemies: Nice and Prusa were reduced and chastised:
the Sicilians were content with the sack of Thessalonica; and the
distance of Cyprus was not more propitious to the rebel than to the
tyrant. His throne was subverted by a rival without merit, and a people
without arms. Isaac Angelus, a descendant in the female line from the
great Alexius, was marked as a victim by the prudence or superstition
of the emperor. In a moment of despair, Angelus defended his life and
liberty, slew the executioner, and fled to the church of St. Sophia. The
sanctuary was insensibly filled with a curious and mournful crowd, who,
in his fate, prognosticated their own. But their lamentations were soon
turned to curses, and their curses to threats: they dared to ask, "Why
do we fear? why do we obey? We are many, and he is one: our patience is
the only bond of our slavery." With the dawn of day the city burst into
a general sedition, the prisons were thrown open, the coldest and most
servile were roused to the defence of their country, and Isaac, the
second of the name, was raised from the sanctuary to the throne.
Unconscious of his danger, the tyrant was absent; withdrawn from the
toils of state, in the delicious islands of the Propontis. He had
contracted an indecent marriage with Alice, or Agnes, daughter of Lewis
the Seventh, of France, and relict of the unfortunate Alexius; and his
society, more suitable to his temper than to his age, was composed of
a young wife and a favorite concubine. On the first alarm, he rushed
to Constantinople, impatient for the blood of the guilty; but he was
astonished by the silence of the palace, the
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